Standby
by miscreant rose
Summary: The much asked for continuation of "Cancelled." How do modern AU Mary & Matthew pass the time when find themselves snowed in and the flight home to London cancelled? Rated M due to some rather hormonal thoughts on the minds of our favorite pair...
1. Chapter 1

_Brace yourself, they are back. And snowed in. And trying very much to find some balance between being distant, professional, friends or something while their hormones are screaming otherwise. Idiots._

_I was once delayed in a Nashville hotel due to an ice storm. I have never had so much fun in my life. Some of that may have trickled over to this story that so many of you have been clamoring for – thank you so much! I admit to having fallen very hard for these two, so never worry, more stories of them ill be forthcoming in the form of drabbles and ficlets. (also, prompts accepted for this 'verse!) _

_As always, I would be unable to do any of this without the encouragement and beta of my sisters in smut, lala-kate and Cls2011 – lala-kate especially since it was her prompt for a birthday fic that led to this snowy layover. And of course to Orangeshipper for additional cheerleading and some Brit-picking that I tend to need. Huge hat-tip to JF & crew for the creation of these characters and letting me play with them. No copyright infringement intended, etc., etc._

_Enjoy the snowday fluff with this modern incarnation of our favorite ship at BOS._

* * *

_**Standby**_

_Chapter 1 of 2_

Steam was clinging to every surface in the bathroom, enveloping her in a cloud of humid kisses across her skin and the murky reflections on the glass. She pulled the sash of the robe tighter about her waist, and tucked the lapels even more snugly together before finally cracking the door open.

She breathed in the rush of cool air, listening for any movement before finally glancing out to see where Matthew was. There was only the low hum of the television tuned to a newscast. She didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed to find the room empty.

Shaking her head to try and clear it of thoughts that wouldn't budge, she sorted through her suitcase, finding the one casual outfit other than some workout wear she had managed to pack. The chatter from the television regarding the weather that half-filtered into her brain left no doubt that there was no flight out today. Which meant another 24 hours in the hotel room. Another 24 hours in far too intimate atmosphere with Matthew.

She wanted to curse as her stomach gave a sudden flutter at the thought of him. Stupid, stupid, stupid brain and then that dream. That dream that just seemed to keep replaying itself unbidden in her mind, stirring her body to recall the very real physical sensations of it, teasing her into a heightened sense of awareness of him. There was something of him in the room she couldn't quite smell, but could nearly taste, something that made the hairs on her body rise as if expecting his touch against her, ready to toss her into full arousal.

That dream. Just when she thought she had managed to get her emotions into some semblance of control.

All of it had started sneaking up on her, nearly as soon as she had accepted the partnership offer and he once again became a daily fixture in her life. She hadn't had any idea what her feelings would be in coming to work with the once golden-boy-wonder who had interned with her father nearly a decade previously. The one who in succeeding years had managed to outshine her at every opportunity at her father's firm. Or at least that had been her father's assessment of things. She figured as soon as Matthew left Robert Crawley's tutelage and started his own firm that she would finally be able to rise in the ranks, show her father what an asset he had in his oldest daughter, and that she would carry on the Crawley name in the world of public relations.

Trust her father to disappoint her once again.

And to remind her that being a woman in the business world meant working three times as hard and getting only half as far, if even that. And that not even nepotism could be counted on when partnership offers went out.

She still wasn't sure if it was her pique of anger with Robert or actual interest in the new vision of what public relations and branding could be in the hands of Matthew and Tom Branson that had that caused her to walk out and take her hard-saved capital elsewhere. But if it meant spiting her father and his rejection of her, that was just icing on the cake. She realized her annoyance with Matthew for all those previous years had been nothing more than her own hurt over being an inferior daughter in her father's eyes. Robert Crawley was of a generation that only saw the old boys network, and when university student Matthew Crawley showed up with the drive and energy, not to mention the bonus connection of being some distant cousin generations back, her father acted as though he had finally been granted the son he always wanted.

It was hardly Matthew's fault that it stung her so much.

Still, she was at a loss of how to deal with what was first a keen admiration of his work, a team building management style, and a ready laugh when needed. She was madly trying to keep up her defenses and keep everyone out of her emotions, even professionally, but it was a daily struggle with Matthew. He treated her as an equal, he challenged her, made her find her passion for ideas and argue for them even if partway through she spotted a glint of humor in those sky-blue eyes of his that meant he had always been on board, but he wanted to see her fight for it.

He was pushing buttons she didn't realize she had. And she was more than terrified to find out what might happen if the wrong — or possibly right — button got pressed.

There was a soft electronic chirp from across the room. Brow furrowed, she glanced over at the screen of her iPad, but it was dark. She turned to look at the other side of the bed and spotted where Matthew's was propped on the nightstand, a message, clearly followed by several others that had filtered in previously, still lit up the screen. She wondered…

Shaking her head at her urge to invade his privacy and read what the message was, she quickly pulled on the jeans and plain blue jumper, jamming her bare feet into her trainers. Running her fingers thru her partly dry hair, she stomped back towards the bathroom to dry it the rest of the way. The hotel dryer blew a tornado of skin-burning air and was about as quiet as a jet engine. She forced herself to take deep breaths and relax and she flipped her head over to dry the underside of her hair. Mind over matter. She could get that control of herself again, mainly those distracting thoughts, and everything would be fine. In fact, it would be great. Just an extra day before heading home and she would use it to get a jump on some of the work they were bringing back to the office. Clicking off the dryer, she quickly ran a brush through the unruly waves, nearly jumping out of her skin when there was a knock on the wall beside the slightly open bathroom door.

"You better be decent."

Could she really hate that voice? No, not the actual voice that was warm and had an edge like aged brandy. But the damned reaction her body had to it. Every single nerve was alight again, stomach doing back flips, and she bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. _Smiling_.

Idiot.

She counted to five, ignoring that her heart rate easily outpaced her counting.

"Of course. Why?"

She opened the door all the way and stepped back into the room. Hair still slightly rumpled from sleep, he was dressed much as she was, only his gray thermal tee clung to his torso more than she had a right to notice, and hinting at his physique more than was necessary.

He extended one of the tan cardboard coffee cups he was holding towards her.

"Peace offering."

She eyed him warily before daring to step any closer or accept the offered cup. Dark circles under slightly red-rimmed eyes told her he had slept about as soundly as she felt she had. A deep breath to put herself on steady ground.

"Tea?" It had been a long week of learning to drink more coffee than she liked.

"No. Well," he tilted his head slightly, "that new chai tea you seem to have adopted. What do you call it, 'filthy chai?'"

She tried not to smirk as she reached for the proffered cup, letting the spicy scent tickle her nose. Sipping, she closed her eyes in happiness as the mixture of sweet and spicy chai with the bitter bite of espresso hit her tongue. He even remembered she liked it latte.

"Dirty," she murmured, correcting his name for it. "The espresso makes it dirty. And it is the only way to drink coffee. At least in my opinion." She raised a brow at the cup he sipped from. "Did you get one to try too?"

That sly lopsided grin of his made blue eyes sparkle that much more.

"No, I'll stick being all dirty."

A shiver that ran down her spine and made her knees reconsider holding her upright. She stared at him as he started to move closer, his hand coming up as if to brush across her face, and she froze, breath catching in her throat. He paused, and she couldn't help but wonder if that sudden dark look in his eyes was his awareness of her thoughts at this moment. Of how she wouldn't pull away if he touched her. That she actually wished he would, because it had to be easier than pretending to hate him.

But he didn't. He stepped passed her, a casual, "You've got some foam on your lip," his reaching hand suddenly making sense.

She closed her eyes. _You stupid idiot, Mary. Get your shit together._

"Done with the bath?"

Turning at his question, she nodded. "Yes. It's all yours."

Unsteady legs carried her over to the desk by the window where her notes and iPad were. Work. Need to focus on work. Get this crazy snowstorm madness out of her system and work.

"Oh, the hotel is trying to make this a tolerable layover." He grabbed his toiletry kit. "Free hot beverages all day, and a continental breakfast if you are hungry. I didn't bring anything up because I wasn't sure what you wanted."

She just nodded, not looking at him now. She could tell he was still looking at her, paused outside the bathroom door.

It seemed minutes were passing before she finally heard the door click shut, and she let out a held breath. She glared at the iPad screen and her unread mail count. Nope. Back to business. Back to how they always were.

She heard the quiet rush as the shower came on, and she stared out the window at the mad flurry of falling flakes that blurred out everything. But they didn't blur out the sudden change in the rhythm of the water in the bath, his movements under the stream from the shower head easy to interpret as splashes would punctuate the air in the room.

Her stomach growled.

"Good," she murmured to herself, quickly gathering up her notes and iPad. The lobby would be a much safer place to brood.

* * *

Towel wrapped precariously low on his hips, Matthew leaned in closer to the bathroom mirror trying to keep himself focused on shaving. The bathroom still seemed to smell overpoweringly of Mary's shampoo or body lotion. Or maybe it was just the scent of her that seeped out of her pores and encompassed everything around her. Whatever it was, it was making his thoughts drift to areas that they shouldn't.

He hissed as he nicked himself again. Another small dot of blood began to blossom on his chin.

He was going to look like ground meat at this rate. Dabbing a bit of styptic on the new spot, he wondered if Lavinia hadn't been right during their last argument. Well, it was less of an argument and more her walk-out speech, as she tearfully left the engagement ring on the kitchen table.

"_You're never here! Even when you are here, I can tell you are still back at the office, still focusing on whatever brilliant new idea Mary had that day. You don't even realize you start nearly every sentence with her name! Honestly Matthew, I said years ago you two would be such a lovely couple if you could put aside your differences, but I didn't expect you to actually do so while engaged to me."_

He'd had nothing to answer with. All he could do was stare with open mouth, feeling like he had been punched in the gut, breath impossible to catch because it felt like his heart was breaking.

But not about watching Lavinia grab an already packed bag and the hollow echo of the door closing behind her. Rather it was an all too familiar tug of pained longing whenever Mary was mentioned.

He watched the water from the tap run off the blades of his razor for a moment. Silky, silvery rivulets that rose and fell with an effortless grace, reminding him of Mary's voice, her rare laughter, her quiet presence. For once in the decade or so they had known each other, they had reached what was no longer an uneasy peace. He thought, maybe, it was a camaraderie. He was no longer the threat to her position in her father's firm. Instead, she was free of that, somehow bravely taking a leap to join him and Tom and in a competing partnership. And with it, something had clicked for all three of them. Her creativity and vision was a match to his drive and foundation of business and Tom's sharp legal acumen. The three of them were making business headlines, and the long hours to balance the growing pains seemed to be more than worth it both professionally and personally. They weren't exactly skipping off to the pub together afterwards, but some small bit of Mary had begun to thaw. He had become more familiar with the witty edge to her dry humor and the impish crinkles that would form around her eyes when she genuinely smiled.

At least there had been a thaw until this blizzard. Now she was all brittleness and tension again, and he didn't know what to make of it. Well, he knew what to make of the damned situation this morning, and he honestly wasn't surprised. She was filling every corner of his brain these days, and he was beginning to fear his sanity.

Dammit. Another nick.

Closing his eyes for a second to regain his focus to the task on hand, he diverted his thoughts to repeating each one of the new clients they had met with, naming all those who had been at the meetings and any unique details of the individuals he could remember. It was a trick he used to memorize names and faces, being able to have total recall to all previous encounters with a client, surprising people with what he managed to remember.

Pulling his jeans and shirt back on, he stepped back into the room, taking in the silence of Mary's absence. Good, it would give him the time he needed to rein in his subconscious and get himself refocused completely on business, the actual reason for this trip and layover fiasco. He pulled up the list of flights to London, reaching for the phone to see what the situation was as to honoring their cancelled flight from yesterday and getting rebooked.

An hour later, he rubbed at his eyes, not sure if three standby reservations were a defeat or victory. He'd feel better with a solid booking either way. He grabbed for his coffee cup and realized it was long empty. And he was hungry since he hadn't bothered to grab any breakfast for himself earlier. Food had been the last thing on his mind.

Working his way through the large atrium of the hotel, he was watching for her dark hair somewhere. Most everyone seemed gathered toward the front reception area and the bank of windows that looked out on a snowy landscape. Including a laughing Mary, feet curled up under her in large brown leather chair pulled sideway to the view of something happening outside.

She looked so different when she laughed, as if for a moment, she stopped carrying the weight of too many worries on her shoulders. He wondered if anyone could get her to laugh more.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he grabbed a couple of the danish for the offering, and a refill of his coffee before joining Mary. Dropping into the chair next to her, he turned to see what had captured everyone's attention. Out in the still falling snow was a group of a half dozen or so teens alternately trying to build a snowman and winging snowballs at each other. There was a general cheer and laugh from those watching in the lobby as one of the smaller girls of the group took advantage of one of the much larger and older teens bending over to stuff a few handfuls of snow down the back of his coat before racing away.

"Well, that would explain why planes aren't going anywhere today."

Mary jumped slightly at his words, so engaged in watch the antics outside to have missed his sitting to join her. He took the chance to boldly study her face a moment longer, admiring the playful sparkle her smile was giving those rich brown eyes of hers. He could happily spend hours longer studying her features if it wouldn't give away exactly why he wanted to race each bit of her with her eyes as a prelude to his fingers making their paths.

Glancing back at the thick white landscape, Mary shook her head. "I've never seen anything like this in person."

Sipping at his coffee, he held the plate of danish toward her before setting it on the side table between them at the shake of her head.

"Not even skiing?"

She made a sound that may have passed for a laugh. "I went on one school trip to the Alps to learn to ski and it was a disaster. As was I on skis. I'm not sure we are a very athletic family."

"Not something I would have guessed about you." He returned her look with a smirk. "Still, I don't think watching snowball fights from the safety of the lobby can classify as experiencing this much snow in person.

"Then it is a good thing I'm not dressed for the occasion."

The smile under arched brows looked as if it held a challenge. He decided he was up for it.

"Then what is with the rack of outerwear the staff has set up by the door?" He nodded towards the bellman's trolley by the door, sporting a haphazard assortment of coats hanging from the rack and a tangle of boots underneath.

She chuckled, and he tried to ignore what sensations that simple sound from her could send through his body.

"I would say that would be for the kids who want to freeze."

Draining the last of his espresso, he let the bitterness settle on his tongue and evaporate into the dark nutty aftertaste. But this moment was not about to evaporate.

"How about it?" he held his hand out to her as he stood up.

She stared up at him. "How about what?"

"Snow. Playing in it. Actually enjoying yourself."

Laughing, she shook her head. "No, I think that's for the kids."

He looked out the window. "Looks like a couple of tall kids out there who need to shave. Seriously, Mary, when are you going to have the chance to experience this much snow if you aren't going to book a ski holiday with me?"

She stared at him for moment. "I chose not to live in Antarctica for a reason, thank you."

"A couple minutes is not going to turn you into a block of ice."

She shot him a look that indicated she clearly heard the unsaid finish to his sentence. "At least not more than I already am?"

Grinning wickedly, he leaned in closer to her, a hand on each armrest of her chair. "Now, you said that, not me." There were sparks in the warm challenge of their stares. He added warm breath to the closed distance. "Not up for the challenge, Crawley?"

There was a hesitation as she glanced out the window again as if searching for a cooling of the heat he knew was dancing across his cheeks. He could almost detect a child-like longing flash across her features as she watched those who played out there, before she shifted and shook her head.

"No, all my stuff is here, I can't just leave my iPad out." He was sure he could detect a note of defeat in her voice.

Sighing loudly, he gathered her notes and electronics and put them in the messenger bag at her feet. She protested, and tried to grab for the bag as he slung it over his shoulder. "Come on, they'll watch it at the desk. Go find a coat and boots and some gloves."

Trying not to laugh aloud at the glare she shot him as she slowly uncurled from her perch in the chair, he handed over her valuables to the clerk at the desk as another clerk hurried to help pull out hats and scarfs and outfit them both in coats. She was still glaring at him as he tugged a knit hat with ear flaps and a giant pompom onto her head. He was still trying to control his grin as he pulled on a pair of too small gloves.

* * *

_So there we are for Part 1 of our 2 part snow-day adventure. Penny for your thoughts?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Better bundle up for some fun, because they are back to close out this little adventure... Thank you for all the lovely reviews (you have no idea how wonderful reviews are for writers!) and love for are darling idiots. _

_As always, huge thanks to Lala-kate and Cls2011 for the encouragement, mad flailing, and beta. Two of the best cheerleaders and sisters anyone could have around._

* * *

_**Standby  
****Chapter 2 of 2**_

The chill of the air as the outer hotel doors slid open was bracing, but it was the wind blowing a blinding and skin-pricking rush of ice-edged snow across their faces that made both stumble back for a second. But Mary's sudden laugh made Matthew turn and look at her.

"This is insane," she shook her head at him, but she was grinning madly.

"I'm beginning to second guess my grand idea here," he finally managed as the air was sucked involuntarily from his lungs.

A fresh gust of wind swirled the dark ends of her hair from under her hat up around her face, and a peal of laughter rang out from her again as she began to trudge through the snow that was nearly up to her knees.

"What's the matter Crawley, not up to a challenge?" She tossed back at him wickedly and reached down to grab a couple handfuls of snow, trying to mold it into a snowball.

"Don't you dare." He started to move towards her, trying to block her ability to throw it at him, but she danced back a step from him before launching it at him.

The poorly formed ball blew apart into nothing more than a fistful of loose snow in his face. He sputtered, wiping at his face and started towards her again.

"That's it, it's on," he threatened, reaching down to grab snow of his own.

He moved after her, clearly not leaving inexperience of forming a snowball get in his way, and she laughed as she tried to run through the heavy ground layer of dense snow. His longer stride caught up with her in no time, an arm catching around her waist as and he tried to press the snow into her face as she twisted away and shrieked at the assault, managing to trip and fall over backwards.

The force of a perfectly packed snowball on the side of his head knocked him sideways. Stunned, he stumbled a couple steps, shaking his head and looking at Mary, but she looked as shocked as he was. One of the college boys standing just beyond Mary was roaring with laughter, but it was the pint-sized girl next to him outfitted in bright raspberry ski-wear that was glaring at Matthew.

"Not fair, picking on girls!" The self-appointed referee was bending down to back more snow into a missile.

Matthew couldn't help but chuckle as he tried to shake the snow out of his ear. He looked to give Mary a hand up, but she had already scrambled to her feet, the back of her jeans and borrowed jacket covered head to toe in frosty white flakes.

Trudging over to the raspberry-outfitted sure-shot, she called back to Matthew over her shoulder, "I think I have a new best friend to teach me how to make a proper snowball."

The girl's eyes grew wide as she looked up at Mary. "You talk just like they do in the Harry Potter movies. Are you a wizard?"

Matthew was shoving his gloves in his pocket before scoping up more snow, testing if the heat of his hands would help a snowball form more efficiently. "More like a witch," he called over in Mary's direction.

"Watch it, Crawley!" she yelled back, forming a large ball of snow herself.

"I'm just pointing out the proper form of address for a female wizard is a witch, I'm not —" He was cut off my a mouthful of snow as the Mary found her mark, and a cheer erupted from the kids.

"Ten points for Gryffindor!" someone shouted.

From there, it dissolved into a regular melee, and soon became everyman for himself. He was out of breath from laughing and running, getting better at both launching snowballs and ducking them. Mary wasn't doing much better in keeping her balance though, and was completely covered in snow in no time, but the rich music of her laughter still filled the air. He was tempted to just stop and watch her, face alight with a childish glee, eyes sparkling under the too large cap that was nearly ready to fall off. He was warmed head to toe with a heat that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of a snowball fight, and everything to do with the woman he feared was consuming his very soul.

How he managed to hear his cell phone ringtone and feel its sharp vibration against his thigh was a wonder. He stepped away from the center of action, digging in his pocket with frozen fingers, seeing Tom's name on the screen. He had to blow a warming breath on his fingers before he could get the touch screen to respond.

"Tom?" He blocked his other ear, walking toward the hotel entrance so he could hear over the shouts of the battle behind him.

"If you think this isn't coming out of your vacation days Crawley, you've got it wrong."

He laughed, standing under the awning, and enjoying the wind-block. "Can't control the weather, Branson."

"Likely story. Just an excuse to have Mary tied up in the hotel room over there, right?"

"What?" Matthew was sure he hadn't heard Tom right, and immediately turned to enter the lobby, feeling his face flush at what had to be misconstrued words.

"I asked if you had Mary tied up in the hotel room over there. She's sent me three proposal storyboards already. Put the whip away and stop being such a slave-driver, mate."

He swallowed, trying to slow the panicked racing of his heart and more than arousing mental image Tom's words had caused, and chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well she's outside playing in the snow with a bunch of kids right now."

He heard Tom laugh. "The ice-queen in her natural habitat? Pics or it didn't happen."

"Knock it off, you know better than I do that's not true."

"Of course I do, but I like the idea of employees fearing at least one of the partners around here."

Matthew turned to look back out the glass doors, watching as Mary ducked a snowball with another shriek of laughter before lobbing one of her own and tossing her arms above her head with a huge grin on her face as she made her target. "Somehow I don't think pictures of this would instill fear in anyone."

* * *

She tried not to stumble as she trudged back to the hotel entrance on legs already aching from a work-out much different from her usual yoga and run. Even her face was sore, and she honestly didn't know if it was from the cold of the wind and snow or the fact she hadn't stopped smiling or laughing.

The lobby doors slid open and she was hit with a blast of artificially dry hot air that made her skin sting and the rest of her body begin to throb as she realized just how cold she had managed to get. She knew her teeth had been chattering for some time, but it hadn't really felt like she was cold. Trying not to slip on the wet tile of the floor at the lobby entrance, she began to shed her snow-logged borrowed coat and hat, glancing around to see where Matthew had vanished to.

She searched for her trainers before pulling off the boots, but she still ended up having to step barefooted onto the floor before being able to jam them in her own shoes. She realized her feet were numb enough to not really feel the cold or wet of the floor and wondered if she should be worried.

"Were you out there without socks?"

Matthew sounded shocked as he rounded on her, extending an arm for her to catch as she nearly lost her balance getting her second shoe on.

She shrugged, trying to make light of it, but a sudden full body shiver combined with her chattering teeth. Her ebullient mood was starting to deflate as she realized he looked a bit too concerned.

"Where did you vanish to? Didn't want to take on the challenge of the snow after all?"

He shook his head. "Tom called. He said he saw three of your mock-ups come in already. I caught him up to speed on where we are as far as getting back."

"Which is?"

"I'll try again this evening, but we are booked standby on all three flights to Heathrow tomorrow."

She nodded her approval, trying hard to keep her teeth from making actual noise as the uncontrollable trembling of her body continued. They both glanced up at the approaching ruckus of the others who had been outside began to file into the lobby, more snow joining to quickly melt into puddles on the tile. Mary grinned and said her goodbyes as she moved from the crowd and headed toward the hot beverage station before it was overrun. There was an extra moment of laughter as a flurry of hot pink and snow flung its arms around her waist, catching her off-guard for a moment, before she said goodbye to the dark-eyed girl with the huge smile who had teamed up with her to teach her the best snowball techniques.

Matthew was slipping a warm cup into her nearly numb fingers. "Tea," he nodded at her questioning glance before scooping up her project bag and notes from the concierge counter.

All Mary could do was nod and try to sip at the drink that was still too hot to properly drink. They started toward the elevator together, her trainer slipping on a wet patch of tile and sliding out from underneath her. Matthew's arm caught her around the waist, holding her upright as she sucked in a panicked breath, wondering how she hadn't splashed the tea all over herself. They stood there a moment, her back still pressed to his side as she laughed nervously, and got shaky legs back on solid ground. The warmth of him seeping through her damp clothing made her realized just how chilled she was, and she had a sudden urge to not move away from him, but instead wrap that warmth of him all around her. A shiver shook her physically, and she was hard-pressed to decide if it was the actual chill of her body or the rather warm thoughts suddenly flushing her cheeks.

"You're soaked through."

She stepped away from him carefully, doing all she could to maintain her balance. His arm was slow to completely let go of her waist.

"I know. I hope I have something I can change into. I think this was the warmest thing I packed." She tugged at the front of her jumper, not sure if the wet of it against her skin or the chill of the air as she pulled it away was better.

"I think I have a hoodie you can borrow." He frowned at her again. "You still haven't stopped shivering."

She tried to laugh off his worry. "Give me a minute. I'll take a bath and warm up no problem."

He didn't look convinced and his evident concern struck at something in her. She swallowed drily, fighting back the sudden urge to touch his arm, to lean into him and say she was fine while allowing him to wrap his arms around her, to warm her with his body, to allow him to bring her an endless supply of hot tea.

Instead she fought another full body tremor that rocked through her, reminding her of how much she was beginning to ache from the chill of her body. Blowing through the small opening in her cup lid, she tried to take another sip of tea, wondering if she needed to start convincing herself she would be fine as soon as she warmed up.

Steam began to drift up from the tap as she filled the tub and turned on the bathroom heater before stepping back into the room to root for some dry clothes. Matthew was doing the same, and turned to meet her.

"Here." He held out a folded hooded and pair of thick athletic socks. Catching her look, he chuckled, "They are clean, I promise."

She looked down at the navy fleece and sky-blue logo emblazoned across it. "City? Really?"

"That would sound more convincing if it didn't sound like you were stuttering from your teeth chattering."

As if on cue, her body jerked involuntarily in another huge shiver. She was too tired to argue, and tried to smile back, but even that felt like an effort. "Bath," she murmured, turning back to the bathroom and the humid air that was beginning to seep from the cracked open doorway.

The warmth of the bathwater stung and made her frozen limbs burn as she stepped into it. Biting her lip, she blinked back tears as she eased herself into the warm water. Fingers, hands, feet and legs all throbbed in a warning that she had been more than merely chilled, and fought the attempt to warm up. Drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her shins, she rocked back and forth, slipping into her _pranayama_ breath from years of yoga practice. Lungs expanded, pulling in air, pushing out discomfort and pain. Exhaled breath slowed to a steady, lengthening pace, carrying away the chill and ache. She imagined the warmth seeping back into her limbs more gently, snow and ice melting away to drift away in puffs of steam that curled up to the ceiling and glazed the large mirror over the sinks. She dropped her head, cheek coming to rest on her knee, and let her eyes drift shut.

Beginning to disconnect slightly from her body and mind, images and sensory sensations flooded in. Arms wrapping around her, leaning back into a strong male chest as her limbs loosened and floated away. She was weightless and embraced. Heat both physical and emotional began to rise up, gentle waves of want, of need, lapped higher and higher along her. The cool porcelain of the tub edge kissed along the nape of her neck as she relaxed back, chasing at the headache that was beginning to blossom there as she let herself go limp in the water. She fought the image of Matthew's face, the feel of his voice, begging her mind to tease her with a nameless, faceless comfort, not someone truly out of reach. Sensations from this morning's dreams began to creep back in, teasing at her with revealing what had been unremembered, of lips against hers, skin under her fingers, the electrical hum along all of her nerves, the murmur of that voice in her ear, the echo of it rocking down her body.

Was it her heart or brain that was teasing her with impossibilities? Did it matter at all when they worked together, when he was engaged to her friend and former flatmate? _Had__ been engaged_, her heart leaping at an impossible hope. There were lines that couldn't be crossed, shouldn't be crossed, and they were trapped by an endless series of them. Never mind her track record that meant nearly every relationship was doomed before it began. Always the same; she was cold and distant, labeled selfish, a core of ice. Why inflict that pain and struggle on herself, let alone Matthew. No, she just had to give herself time, time to let this senseless rush of emotion fade, to let herself freeze over again, and all would be fine.

If only her breasts didn't ache for his touch, for his mouth hot across her nipples, tugging, pulling, sending her into and endless spiral of pleasure from her core where his fingers delved to find even darker secrets she held.

The tap on the door nearly sent her completely under the water. Did she answer his query? She thought she had heard her voice saying something, what it was, she had no idea. All she was sure of was she was shaking now, not from cold but from the racing tension that charged every inch of her flesh. Trembling, she managed to step out of the bath, trying not to think what he meant by checking for puckered skin. She slipped on her yoga pants and long sleeved tee as if they were armor and could protect herself from her own body, her own wandering thoughts.

She pulled the borrowed hoodie over her head, nearly reeling as his lingering scent on the fabric hit her senses. The soft fleece caressed the bare skin at her neck and wrists, gentle kisses from a lover that made her hair stand on end. She glanced in the mirror, wanting to smile at the way she was lost in the oversized cut, how the navy made her skin that much fairer, her hair that much darker.

He wasn't getting this shirt back. She'd hide it in her bag if she needed, she thought. This much she'd hold on to. It would be the only thing.

The only thing she wouldn't destroy.

She wanted to dodge his gaze as he handed her a blanket but there was no way around it. All she could do was believe that he couldn't possibly read her thoughts, that the dark flash of his glance at her was polite concern and not an answer to a question part of her was still singing out.

Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she stumbled a step toward the desk where he had set up his computer opposite her. She hesitated a second, realizing her lightheadedness and shaky legs had nothing to do with distracted thoughts, but everything to do with the headache that was emerging after all and the wave of exhaustion it was riding crashed into her. She sank onto the edge of the bed instead, letting out a held breath.

"Mary?"

She shook her head, "More tired than I thought." She looked up at him, realizing how closely he was watching her. "I think I just want to close my eyes for a bit," she managed to murmur past a tongue suddenly thick. The shivers racing along her skin had nothing to do with her body temperature.

"I think you should." His voice was as soft and serious as the expression on her face.

She swallowed, pulling her gaze away from his as she curled up against the pillows, pulling the blanket up as a protection from her own thoughts, from what his eyes on her did to her.

"Not long," she heard herself saying for some reason. "Just until my head stops pounding."

It felt like the bed was swaying beneath her, and she suddenly wondered if he had sat down beside her, but she couldn't open her eyes. Instead the blanket felt suddenly extra heavy against her, a cocoon against swirls of snow but she could hear laughter on the wind and her heart was lighter than it had been for years as she drifted off.

When she opened her eyes again, the light of the room had changed. Her limbs felt drained of all energy, but the pounding of her head nearly vanished. She smiled as she recognized a song playing softly. _Je te raconterai / L'histoire de ce roi. _She turned and looked where Matthew was leaning back in his chair, reading something on his iPad, the sky through the windows beyond him no longer steel-gray and filled with the white of snow, but clearing with pink tinged clouds that reflected the last light of sunset.

"Nina Simone," she murmured in a contended sigh.

His gaze met hers over the top edge of the screen.

"Is your head any better?"

He could tell the answer even before her brow crinkled slightly and her hand moved to press at the nape of her neck.

She shrugged. "A bit, but…" she shook her head, then made a face when the sudden movement clearly didn't agree with her.

He had wanted to tell her not to take that bath, that it wasn't the proper way to warm up. He had wanted to tell her the safest way to bring her body temperature back up. To tell her to climb under the duvet, to lie naked in his arms, to let the warmth of his skin against hers slowly sink into her, tracing across every limb, every inch of her, carrying her carefully and gently back to warmth.

Only he had known that would have been anything but safe. Never mind inappropriate.

Instead, he had spent the past few hours watching her sleep, that gnawing concern over her ever-present as he tried to answer emails or read. He tried not to imagine himself pressed up against her, of feeling the rhythm of her breath against his chest, of feeling their heartbeats fall into sync, of the expanse of all that silken white skin of hers against him. He tried not to imagine the gentle weight of her in his arms, of the feel of her under his hands, of how perfectly she would fit into him.

Instead, he had clenched his jaw as he battled for control over his state of arousal.

He tried not to think how easily and right her body had molded into his when he had caught her around the waist to keep from falling, how slender and lithe her frame, how intoxicating the scent of her hair. He tried not to play back the moment a dozen times, the body memory of the sensation of her, sure now she had stayed pressed against him a moment longer than completely necessary, that a soft sigh had escaped her as she let him pull her that small bit closer, crossing some indefinable line into intimacy.

He tried not to think about that echoing sense of _yes_ that thrummed through him, an answer to a question he never thought to ask, something that had been whispering in the back of him mind for so long and now was shouting to the fore of his heart.

She was the yes.

She was the one no one else would ever come close to being for him.

She was every bit of passion and love and laughter and presence he wanted in his life.

She was the answer to every question he ever had.

And he didn't know what to do with a revelation he never expected, never asked for.

But as her voice now pulls him into conversation, he is even more certain of his wants, and knows that soon, he's going to have to start acting on them.

She had drifted off again late in the evening, eyes heavy, even as they watched one of her favorite rom-com movies he had found playing on the television. That he had set down the remote at her happy sigh of _"Oh!"_ as she recognized the movie, and grinned at her with only a slight eye roll surprised her.

As had their conversation over a hotel room picnic dinner. (Last best book, _The Yellow Birds_; guilty pleasure workout music, Beyoncé.) The fact that they could talk about non-work topics spoke of the improvements over the past few years of tension, but she wasn't certain it was making things any easier when it came to trying to maintain her walls of ice. She almost wished he could be the ass she first found him to be.

Almost.

"_Mary."_

His breath was warm against her cheek. She wanted to turn and curl into him.

"_Mary."_

She sighed softly at his whisper. He wanted to wrap his arms round her and just sleep there with her.

The soft touch on her shoulder pulled her from a jumble of nonsensical dreams. The sky-blue eyes studying her drew her to full consciousness and sudden self awareness of how nonsensical some of those dreams had been. There was no way to hide the flush she felt run across her cheeks.

"You should get under the covers. I'll take the blanket."

His hand was still on her shoulder, his thumb making a lazy circle that was burning out across her skin. She didn't know how she was supposed to catch her breath, or even really understand what he was saying. _His touch_.

"I'll sleep on top with the blanket to avoid, well, my actions from this morning."

She was sure her face was flaming now. "What?"

He'd looked away now, hand reluctantly pulling away from her and she fought back the stupid urge to grab it back. That hand raked through his hair.

"And I'm sorry about that. I'm not quite sure how to apologize for —"

"No, it's okay." She struggled to sit up now, her feet desperate to find the floor so she could run from this conversation. "I mean…" She made a gesture with her hands, shaking her head as she turned, heading to the bathroom, desperate to splash cold water on her face. "It happened, we both want to forget it, so whatever."

She didn't wait for an answer, didn't dare a glance. Shaking hands and a hammering heartbeat as she readied herself for bed. _Bed._ Another night sleeping next to him. Another night, no doubt, to be filled with the imaginings of her subconscious, all of it more erotic than anything she had ever experienced in life.

And it had better stay in her subconscious tonight. And not decide to wrap itself around him.

As they traded places between room and bath, she hesitated, his hoodie in her hands. She glanced at his suitcase for a moment, before she quickly stepped to hers and shoved it to the bottom of her bag.

_Let that be your one stupid act tonight, Mary._

She clicked off the light and slipped under the duvet. There was only the faint echo of the tap running in the bathroom as she tried to calm herself back to sleep. Minutes ticked by and her mind began to drift once more, part of her noting he was taking a long time.

A soft click and the dark of the room pulled her back to the surface. She could sense him moving in the dark, bare feet silent on the carpet. _All of him bare except his boxers if anything like he slept last night._

Her heart began to race again, and she stilled herself to feign sleep.

The gentle sway under her body as his weight sank unto the bed.

A faint scent of soap and water lingering.

She listened, losing herself in the barely perceptible sound of his breath, his presence just a couple feet from her. Sure she could hear the shift of his breathing into the deep and steady sound of sleep, she carefully turned, rolling to face him, eyes open now to adjust to the dark, instantly locking on his profile in the shadows.

What was it he was able to do to her, simply by being there? Simply breathing, simply being close? The warmth of the feeling that continued to wind itself around her, nestling deeper into every curve and crevice of her was unnerving in how it was molding into her, uncovering bits of herself she didn't want to admit to. How it made her feel so…

Safe. It saw every bit of her, every flaw, every bit of herself she tried to cover and hide, and yet it didn't matter. It only embraced her more closely, pulling her to want him even more, to understand again this sense of being secure, not trying to balance herself on shifting sands at every moment.

She blinked back the warmth that was burning behind her eyes. And why couldn't she find it elsewhere? Why Matthew? Not that he wasn't wonderful, but, oh, the baggage each of them would bring to any relationship.

_No_. She didn't have the strength to deal with it, the storm that would erupt if they ever dared, the too-easy a disaster one misstep would be.

But maybe it meant there was hope for her after all. That she could feel this, that she could feel anything. Somewhere inside her broken soul there might be part of a heart that still existed, that could be stirred.

She'd just have to find it with someone else.

He kept his breathing as slow and steady as he could, sure he could feel her eyes on him, a sense of an intimate gaze that was undressing him, leaving him as raw and naked as he was aroused.

He knew he wouldn't be seeing his sweatshirt again. Unless he was somehow lucky enough to see it on her. If he had his way, it would be the only thing on her, complete with long bare legs from beneath a hem that barely covered her hips, topped with a knowing smile and spark in those rich brown eyes of hers.

He had a feeling he would be getting very little actual sleep tonight.

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? I'd love to know! And yes, they will be back. They have quite the story to tell, which I'll do in other drabbles and bits as I go. I know there are 2 votes already for some mad hot kissing for these poor sexually frustrated idiots…._


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